


putting roots in my dreamland

by softambrollins



Series: our own private universe [7]
Category: Professional Wrestling
Genre: Comfort Sex, Couch Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gentle Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Lap Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Protectiveness, Riding, mild kxnny omxga slander, murder fantasies as foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29612562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softambrollins/pseuds/softambrollins
Summary: They don't always know the best way to talk about things like this when it feels too hard, the wounds too fresh and raw, but Seth needs Dean to know he's here for him too, he's not alone — It's easier for their bodies to do the work instead.
Relationships: Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Seth Rollins | Tyler Black
Series: our own private universe [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1468705
Kudos: 16





	putting roots in my dreamland

**Author's Note:**

> Set on December 2nd 2020 when he lost the title.

Seth's waiting for him by the door when he gets back to the beach house Dean's been renting in Jacksonville. He instantly reaches out and puts his arms around him. His entire body must be drained and aching after that hellacious match; he feels heavy and exhausted as he leans against him, spine curved forward, head hanging low, fingers clutching loosely at the back of Seth's shirt. But it feels like he's still carrying so much tension inside of him, threaded tightly in all of his muscles. Seth pulls him close, cradles his head against his shoulder, fingers curling gently over the soft fuzz on the back of his skull, his body rocking Dean's against him soothingly. "Sorry," he breathes against the side of his hair right above his ear. "I'm so sorry."

They just sit on the couch in silence for a while and Seth reaches across and takes his hand and tangles them together on his knee. Dean doesn't resist but he doesn't seem eager to say or do anything else right now either. Seth keeps throwing cautious glances across at him every couple seconds, but he doesn't meet his eyes or appear to notice at all, clearly still absorbed in replaying tonight and everything that happened in his mind. He looks almost haunted by his own still painfully fresh memories.

Seth knows that's how you drive yourself crazy. Turning it over and over in your head, all the things that went wrong, every mistake you made, feeling anger, then frustration, then helplessness, rinse, repeat. It's a dangerous cycle. Seth's usually the one who succumbs to that particular temptation while Dean yells a lot of imaginative expletives and decides on the fastest, most effective way to destroy the motherfuckers; it's just how it's always worked. But maybe things are different now.

He remembers the night they lost the tag titles three years ago and at least he's not angry or drinking or smashing shit. But he just looks kind of lost and empty, and not just from the physical toll, and maybe that's worse. Seth knows how to calm Dean down when he's full of rage and destruction; he's less accustomed to this.

"Are you okay?" he eventually asks.

Dean just half-shrugs and then gives him a noncommittal nod, still not really looking at him at all. He hasn't been this quiet and subdued in a long time. He's been so _happy_ , glowing from the inside with it, and Seth fucking _hates_ that that's been stolen from him now. 

"How's your knee?" he asks instead, thinking that might be simpler to evaluate right now.

"It'll be fine. It's just sore," he mutters. "Just needs ice and a couple days of rest."

"Okay." He feels like the rest of what he's feeling is gonna need significantly more time than that to heal. Seth just squeezes his hand a little tighter in his own. "What can I do? Want me to go kick his ass? And I _mean_ it this time. That fucking obnoxious, cheating piece of shit, I swear to god —" 

"It's okay," Dean cuts him off, voice sounding thin and strange. "It's — whatever. I just kinda wanna forget about it right now." He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, pinches the bridge of his nose, rolls his neck on his shoulders until it cracks loudly, shakes his head briskly, like he's trying to shake off the last couple hours. It doesn't seem to be doing much for him, though.

"Okay, I can do that too," he says, making up his mind. He knows that Dean needs his space sometimes, that he's had a rough couple years, they both have, but it's becoming harder and harder to just let things be, to just accept that there are some things he can't always fix. Maybe he just hates feeling useless. Maybe it's Dean rubbing off on him. He needs to know he's _doing_ something, because just letting things slide, ignoring things, has gotten them into a lot of avoidable messes in the past.

Seth shifts closer to him on the couch, pressing his body flush against Dean's side, one leg sliding between Dean's, his hand on Dean's thigh, and he leans in and kisses the side of his neck.

Dean finally looks at him properly, eyes narrowed, curious and a bit surprised. "What are you doing?" 

"You said you wanted a _distraction_ ," Seth reminds him, voice muffled into his collarbone.

"I was more thinking...getting drunk and passing out for a really long time. But I guess this works too," he concedes, his arm coming around his waist, fingers slowly skimming over his back through his t-shirt.

Seth laughs into his skin, one hand resting assertively on the broad expanse of his chest. "You don't have to do anything. Don't think about anything. Just leave it all to me," he promises him, quiet but firm.

They don't always know the best way to talk about things like this when it feels too hard, the wounds too fresh and raw, but Seth needs Dean to know he's here for him too, he's not alone — It's easier for their bodies to do the work instead.

Seth moves his head up to kiss along his jaw now, then his cheekbone, the corner of his lips, the friction of their beards scratching together just the right mix of pleasant and rough. Then he reaches up and grasps his face in his hands and turns his head towards him, holding his gaze for a second before Seth leans in and kisses him, gentle and soft, fingers splayed across his cheek, like the reassurance he can't put into words, before pulling away a little, the two of them just sharing the same breath. Dean slips both arms around his body, hands resting firmly on the small of his back to drag him in closer and he tilts his head to fit them together, kisses him harder and more urgent, and Seth lets out a content, little sigh.

He slides his hands down over his neck and grips them tightly into the firm muscles of Dean's shoulders. Without breaking the kiss, he carefully presses him down onto the couch cushions so Dean's lying on his back, his head falling back onto the armrest as Seth lowers himself down on top of him, holding himself up on his elbows and knees over him so he doesn't put too much weight on his body that must be bruised and tender all over. Dean's hands settle on the shallow curve of his waist, nails snagging lightly against his bare skin where his shirt's riding up, and yeah, this is better, _so much_ better, this is how it should be always.

Seth kisses him until his lips are red and plump, licking over them until Dean opens his mouth and sucks his tongue inside, moaning softly as their tongues meet, hot and desperate. And then Seth pulls away just a fraction to look down at him, their noses brushing. The skin on his neck and cheeks is flushed pink, pupils dilated, chest heaving under him, and he looks utterly debauched and out of breath and Seth loves seeing him like this, knowing he's the one who _made_ him look like this.

He runs his hand down over the middle of his chest, feeling the heat radiating off of his body even through his shirt, and then he attaches his mouth to his neck, lips open to taste his skin, teeth grazing against his hot pulse point, and he suddenly _needs_ to touch even more skin. So Seth slides his hands under his shirt and Dean lifts his shoulders up off the couch so he can tug it over his head and off.

He eagerly leans down and kisses a trail down over the center of his smooth, warm chest, over the plains of his stomach, fingers tracing over his ribs and hooking around his hipbones. He tucks his thumbs inside the waistband of his jeans, touching thick, coarse hair and the bare traces of the more intense heat trapped inside is already enticing. He feels a sudden tingle of anticipation between his legs, making his heart beat faster.

He's about to start taking his pants off too when he feels Dean's large hands possessively encircle his forearms and he slowly, silently guides him back up the length of his body so he's back at Dean's eye-level, looking down expectantly, hair falling into his face, mouth slack.

Dean reaches up now with both hands and carefully tucks Seth's hair behind his ears and everything goes very still for a second, the two of them suspended in the moment. And Dean looks at him like there's nothing else in the world and Seth feels something ache deep inside his chest, and he almost goes light-headed for a brief moment.

He draws in a deep inhale and then reaches down again and palms him through his pants, fingers stroking over the outline of the head where he's already starting to firm up, and they just stare at each other for a long moment, breathing loudly in the silence.

Seth swallows hard and then looks at him intently. "What do you want?" he asks, more breath than sound.

"Want to fuck you," he tells him, voice deep and raspy.

"Okay," he says at once, licking his lips. "Just gimme one sec."

He takes one moment to rearrange his thought processes and dispel the unbridled longing clouding his mind; it's probably a good thing he's just as versed in being efficiently pragmatic in chaotic situations as he is in getting caught up in Dean's hands and mouth and body and irresistible magnetism. And then he unceremoniously slides off of his body and onto his feet on the carpet. He squeezes Dean's hand in his own for a second, meeting his eyes, before he leaves him there.

He goes upstairs and grabs the small bottle of clear liquid sitting on the nightstand in the master bedroom and comes back as swiftly as he can manage. When he returns, Dean's sitting upright on the couch again, but his body's still slack and listless. He's taken his pants off now, wearing just his underwear, feet on the floor, knees spread wide apart. His head is tipped back against the back of the couch, eyes half-lidded.

His posture is weary and defeated, but it's like there's still an edge of unease thrumming underneath it, the set of his features tense and agitated. They both know it's not over yet. He may be crestfallen now but there has to be lingering anger still simmering inside him too and it's going to spill over soon and he doesn't think anyone wants to be in his warpath when that happens. For now though, it's just _them_ , and Seth only cares about giving Dean whatever he wants until he sees a glimpse of that elusive glow in him that floods Seth's entire world with warm, golden light. Like endless bright, summer skies in the middle of winter. Like a home awash with an infinite array of beautiful colours he couldn't see before.

"Stay right there," Seth tells him gently and Dean raises his head a little, eyes opening wider to look at him. But he does as he's told.

He drops the lube on the couch next to Dean and instead, he sinks down onto the carpet on his knees in between Dean's legs. He curls one hand around Dean's sore knee, and moves closer and presses his mouth to his skin, kissing and nipping gently at the inside of his thick, muscular thighs. He follows a trail up his leg, the bristly hair of his beard brushing against his soft skin, and he feels his leg jerk away just a little like it's ticklish, but then he settles right back into place against his mouth, almost like he's unconsciously pressing into his touch. 

Seth slides the leg of his underwear up a little and noses at the crease between his thigh and hip, grazes his teeth over the tender spot there, and he can feel Dean going very still against him, like he's holding his breath, but then he feels him ease forward a little on the couch again like he can't help it, like his body has a will of its own. He moves his head over to the side and leans forward and closes his lips around the bulge in his underwear, breathes hot and wet right over his hard dick through the thin, stretchy fabric and then he tongues at the head, tasting the bitter dampness where he's already leaking, and Dean holds back a moan as his dick twitches a little against his mouth.

"Fuck, come here," Dean says, like he's reached the end of his self-restraint, fingers grasping at Seth's hair, tight and desperate.

Seth rises back to his feet as Dean reluctantly lets go but his hands are back on him in a second, on his hips, fingers sliding inside the waistband of his sweatpants. He eagerly pulls them down and Seth lets them fall to the carpet in a heap, steps out of them and then returns to standing between his legs. He rests his hands on Dean's thighs on either side of him, his eyes roving over all his exposed skin, flushed and sweat-sheened, his breaths shallow and unsteady and his body vibrating a little under him from arousal. And Dean pulls him in impatiently by the front of his shirt so he sinks down into his lap, knees bracketing his thighs.

Dean shifts his body backwards on the couch, pulling Seth closer, legs coming back together under him, arms instinctively wrapping around his waist tight and firm so he's properly balanced on his thighs, Seth's fingers interlacing behind his neck to keep him in that position. Seth being just a little shorter than Dean, they're perfectly aligned like this. He wishes everything else could be so perfectly aligned, though.

In the light now, he can see some fresh bruises blooming on his chest and shoulders and it stirs those familiar pangs of worry he feels whenever he even thinks about Dean being hurt, but Dean's here in his arms now and safe and relatively whole and unscathed and that's all that matters. Bruises fade and Dean's as resilient as they come and he couldn't be more grateful for that now. He leans in and kisses the faint purple-blue marks staining his pale skin, soft and reverent, and he feels Dean tense a little against him, the hands resting on his back curling into loose fists but still staying right there.

He raises his head and looks up at him but Dean's face is turned away slightly now, lips slightly parted, breathing evenly through his mouth. He tentatively reaches out and carefully strokes his fingertip over the edges of the bandaid on his forehead, covering the cut that had led to his defeat. But he still doesn't meet his gaze, eyes downcast.

He moves his hands down again, rests them back on his shoulders, feeling the tautness there. Dean doesn't stop him from touching him the way he wants to and his body might be responding to Seth's now but his eyes still look far away, like he's lost in the fray on the battlefield of his own mind and Seth isn't sure how to coax him back to here and now, their private little sheltered corner of reality.

Seth leans forward and nudges his temple with his forehead, strands of hair falling against Dean's skin. "Hey, you with me?" he murmurs.

He doesn't answer, just swallows hard and glances away for a second.

Seth sits back on his haunches, looking at him carefully, relaxing his grip on him, hands just resting idly on his shoulders, lightly trailing over the curves of his muscles. 

"You sure you don't want me to fuck him up?" he says, tilting his head at him slightly.

Dean's eyes slowly drift back up to his face, shoulders shrugging a little under his grasp. "I mean, that would be hot, but…"

Seth raises his eyebrows. "Really? You think that's hot?" Okay, he can work with this. Sometimes all it takes is an inappropriate joke or a snarky comment to lure Dean out of his intense brooding; he just has to find the right opening. He leans back in. "So what do you want me to do to him?" he says against his ear.

"We're not doing this," he says against his shoulder, Seth feeling his voice reverberating through his body, but he sounds mildly amused at the same. And that's all he needs.

"You said it was _hot_ ," he counters, biting a kiss into his neck. 

"Yeah, you being all angry and protective is hot," he agrees. "Talking about smug, insufferable assholes who I fucking hate during sex is decidedly the _opposite_ of hot."

Seth pulls back to look at him, gaze growing softer, more concerned, brushing his thumbs tenderly over his cheeks. 

"I just hate the thought of you getting screwed out of something you worked so damn hard for by some slimy, opportunistic scumbag," he tells him honestly. "Yeah, I know, the irony's not lost on me —"

Maybe it makes it even worse, somehow. Seth knows what it's like to hurt Dean in the most terrible ways and he wishes he could take it all back every single day, he wishes he could protect him from that ever happening again. Even if that's practically impossible because Dean's _Dean_ and no force in the world could ever compel him to run from a fight when he's always jonesing for it. Even if that's the reason he loves Dean in the first place.

"I can take care of myself, you know," he interrupts, and it sounds more defensive than he probably intended.

Seth leans forward again, presses their foreheads together, fingers wandering all over the bare skin of his chest.

"Yeah, I know. I still wanna fucking _murder_ anyone who even tries to hurt you though. Slowly and painfully. Believe me, I have a great imagination and a highly calculating brain. _Really_ bad combination. The torture will be unlike anything anyone's ever seen and no one will ever find the body," Seth tells him, voice low and even.

Dean just stares at him for a moment, looking almost enthralled by his words.

"Yeah, okay, that _is_ really hot," he says breathlessly, eyes flashing with desire.

"If I knew murder fantasies got you going, I would've tried it ages ago," Seth tells him seriously.

Dean finally smiles at him and he takes it as a win and closes the small distance and kisses him. He bites down on his bottom lip and then drags his tongue along the inside of it and Dean makes a little, eager growl in his throat that wakes up everything already pulsing with _want_ inside Seth.

Dean presses closer to him, hands sliding up into his hair and holding on for dear life, and his body suddenly feels hungry and reckless and aflame against his own, like everything in his head's been forgotten, tossed by the wayside, for now. Like all that exists is his body and Seth's, coming together like they were always meant to.

Dean pulls away just to take Seth's shirt off, clumsy and rushed, and then he brushes kisses over his neck, warm and wet and open-mouthed, before he drags his mouth down his chest, closes his lips over his pecs, teases his nipples with the flat of his tongue, first one then the other, pulling little needy gasps out of his throat, Seth's hands scrabbling over his back for purchase.

Dean slides his hands around his hips and inside the back of his underwear to pull him closer so their dicks drag against each other deliciously through their underwear and Seth throws his head back, eyes closed, as he lets out a long, satisfied sigh.

Dean's hands travel from his ass to his waist, fingers pressing hard into his flesh, then all the way up his spine until they settle in his hair again and he pulls him down to kiss him and Seth goes blindly, chasing his intoxicating taste and the soft, plush warmth of his mouth with his own.

They hastily rid themselves of their underwear, kissing hard and deep until they run out of air and have to pull away again, and Seth's eyes fall to where Dean's already hard and leaking even more profusely now, his dick flushed dark red and curving slightly upwards. He stares at the beads of translucent fluid spilling from the tip, his eyes heavy, mouth going dry, trying to steady his breathing.

Seth takes him in his hands, feeling the familiar ridges and texture against his palm, runs his fingers over the slit, tugs at him gently a couple times, already craving the feeling of having him buried deep inside when he's this hard and aching for it. Dean manages to find the small bottle of lube that got lost between the cushions somewhere in the middle of their heated preoccupations and he coats his fingers liberally and then reaches around Seth's body and slides them inside, starts opening him up, moving in circles, slowly stretching the inside of his rim as Seth buries his face in his neck, taking deep, measured breaths. 

He quickly finds the right spot inside him, moving his long, clever fingers in and out at a generous pace, curling firmly into the spongy, fibrous muscle every time he's all the way inside him, at just the right angle, just the way he knows Seth loves. Seth keeps stroking Dean patiently, enough to give him the friction he needs to relieve some of the pressure built up inside of him but not to get close to the edge. He slowly rocks his hips back and forth in the same rhythm of his hand moving over him, achieving the twofold satisfaction of alternately rubbing his dick against Dean's thigh and taking his fingers in deeper until he's loose and wanting.

And then Dean's gradually pulling his fingers out and Seth lets out a small whine, instantly missing the fullness. But he doesn't waste any time, knowing exactly what he needs. He replaces Seth's hand around his length with his own, slicks up his dick, and then Seth lifts his hips off of Dean's legs so they can line up properly, Dean holding him open, his dick curving under his ass and inside him like it's seeking his tight clutch of heat. He sinks down on it readily, his hole fluttering open to draw in the head and keep it there for a moment before he slowly breathes out and relaxes and then his whole length slides in smoothly in one go.

" _Fuck_ ," Dean exhales, the sound rough and jagged in his throat, as he registers the sudden overpowering sensation of Seth around him.

Seth rolls his hips lazily a couple times, feeling the intense heat building up right in the head of his hard, throbbing dick, and then he raises them off and lowers them back down slowly until he bottoms out again, the gentle friction causing his entire body to shiver.

He adjusts himself so Dean's grazing the right spot with every stroke, thick, rich warmth rising from inside his gut and making his chest feel so, so full and light.

He fits inside him like a glove, like he always does, and sometimes they like it hard and rough, cutting through the resistance without much in the need of help, that deep raw burn inside that gives way to the sweetest bliss, Dan leaving purple-bruised fingerprints on his thighs, and Seth biting down hard on his shoulder out of pure desperation — but it's different tonight. It's not about blowing off steam; he just wants to make Dean feel good and adored and _enough_ , more than enough, just as he is. He wants to give him whatever he wants for the empty, sinking feeling to subside. Because he doesn't deserve to feel like that ever. He deserves only the sweetest, most rapturous things. So he rides him slow and gentle, keeping the pace constant for as long as he can.

He can feel some residual tension still in Dean's body now though, legs stiff under him, hands shaking a little where they're clenched tightly into his hips.

He rests his hands, steady and deliberate, on Dean's chest.

"Just relax," he tells him soothingly. "It's okay."

And Dean just looks at him like he's given him a gift of reprieve, a benediction. Permission to drop the weight of the world that resides on his shoulders for just a moment, just breathe, let it be, _have_ all of this because it will always belong to him. All the tenderness and care in Seth's body fits perfectly in Dean's rough, honest hands, it's everything he needs and deserves, like Seth was put on earth just to love him like this.

He hears him let out a long breath and he feels his muscles start to loosen up a little, like he's no longer locked up in his own head, wrestling with doubts and regrets, like he's surrendering to the feeling, to everything Seth wants to give him.

Seth keeps going, taking even, deep breaths with each thrust, trying to keep his burning arousal at bay, to draw this out as long as he can so they don't have to return to the real world anytime soon, trapped in each other's eyes and their own hazy bubble of warm, comforting touches and contentment.

He looks right into Dean's eyes and he can see them going glassy like he's drifting away, his face perfectly serene and more open, like he's not weighed down to the earth and his own frustration anymore. 

"You good?" Seth asks, and he seems to come awake again.

And he just nods. "Yeah, it feels so fucking good, keep going."

Then he closes his eyes and leans back, head tipped back, reaching between them to slowly start stroking Seth, his other hand roaming up and down his back as he keeps riding him steadily.

It feels like it lasts for hours and he doesn't want it to end because Dean's so beautiful like this and Seth just wants to make him feel good and for him to be happy all the time and he just wants them to forget about everything outside this house and out there in the world, everything outside the two of them moving together like their bodies were made for this. He wants to just _stay_ here.

But they can't, because good things don't ever last forever. And maybe that's okay and maybe it's not the end of the world because at least they don't have to be alone in the aftermath.

Dean's mumbling low, breathy curses, his eyes rolling back in his head from the agonising ecstasy of Seth riding him so, so deliberately slow, infinitely stuck on the precipice of what he most wants, being able to taste it, without the push to get him there. 

And then he feels Dean jerk inside him hard, the head of his dick swollen and burning, and it's like flames licking at his insides, turning his entire core hot and molten. And he knows he can't keep this up much longer, so he gradually speeds up the motions of his hips. 

And it's dizzying, the onslaught of sounds and sensations and images, his ass meeting Dean's thighs with more force, flesh crashing together, sweat dripping off the insides of his thighs and sticking to Dean's skin, his heart slamming into his ribcage so furiously it feels like his chest might burst, Dean hitting deep inside him like an earthshaking collision every time and like he belongs there too. And that look on Dean's face like he's been transported to some other surreal dimension where nothing exists but the pure heady electricity swirling in the atmosphere and them caught in the middle of the storm, tangled together like symbiotic roots that will never be unbound, that thrive from growing together, their foundation built stronger from winding tightly around each other, guarding and protecting each other, keeping each other upright, sharing air and life and love. And Seth leans forward and kisses him, open-mouthed and sloppy, drawing his tongue into his mouth like he's the oxygen he's dying for, and Dean digs his fingers hard into Seth's sides and Seth clenches around him and he spills, hot and vigorous, inside.

Dean just holds him close as he rides it out, his arms braced around Seth's shoulders, his face tucked warm and sweaty into his neck, body trembling a little against him. Seth can feel his chest heaving against his own with each gasped breath.

He stays inside him for a few long moments as he comes down, eyes closed, breathing hot and slow over each other's lips, Dean's hands going weak on his back as his whole body goes limp and heavy under him. And even as he's going soft inside him, the heat and pressure of Dean and his thick release still filling him up makes him feel like he's gonna burst at the seams.

"Dean, can you — _please_ —" he says desperately against his mouth, his own body feeling just as weak and useless from the exertion and the heat and the lack of air and his own overwhelming _need_. And Dean's eyes just flutter open again, nodding at him, knowing exactly what he's asking for. 

When the fog starts fading and his body's more alert again, his eyes sharper, Dean fists a hand in his hair and just kisses him long and slow and delicate as he jerks him off, until he comes all over Dean's chest, moaning wantonly into his mouth, every muscle in his body relaxing and warm, tingling pleasure cascading all the way through him.

Dean holds Seth against him, hands lightly ghosting over his back, as he catches his breath, his heartbeat slowing and evening out. He kisses the top of his head before he finally pulls out of him and Seth detaches himself from Dean's body just the slightest so they can grab tissues to clean themselves up.

Seth kisses him once more, brief and tender, before he hoists himself out of his lap and to his feet, hands on Dean's thighs to balance him. He takes a second to regain his bearings before he turns and ambles into the kitchen to get an ice pack and brings it back, handing it over to Dean who takes it and squeezes his hand, meeting his eyes like _Thank you_ , before he sets it down on his knee.

He drops back down next to him on the couch, one leg tucked under him as he gazes across at Dean. 

Dean just wordlessly shifts closer to him and presses his cheek into his bare shoulder and Seth rests his chin on top of his head, his fingers stroking over Dean's hair.

He goes quiet again but Seth can feel that his body's more at ease now, his breathing gentle and calm, like he's starting to make his peace with his loss, like he's ready to take the next steps forward.

He lowers his mouth and presses a kiss over the bandaid on his forehead. "You'll be okay. You'll get it back," Seth promises, hand going still on his hair, holding him closer. 

"Yeah. But what if I don't?" he asks, voice quiet and hesitant into his collarbone, and Seth knows he only ever lets himself be this vulnerable when it's just the two of them.

He touches his hands to his face, makes him look at him. "I'll still be right here."

"Yeah, that's all I need," he breathes, eyes bright and warm and present and he looks like _his_ Dean again and Seth smiles, a light feeling of relief falling over him.

"You know you're fucking amazing, right? Belt or no belt. And I love you," Seth tells him firmly.

Dean just nods and brings their mouths together and kisses him for a fleeting moment. And it feels like gratitude. 

"Yeah, it was really fucking good, for a while, but there are way more important things in life. Especially now." He pauses, looking at him meaningfully, before he says, "I think I need a break, you know, from all of _this_."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Seth tells him honestly. "Maybe we can go out to the country for a couple days after Christmas, just the two of us, take some time away from everything."

Usually Dean would hate the idea of being in the remote mountains of the Northwest in December but he thinks being away from the rest of the world could do both of them a lot of good right now. The thought of spending the next couple weeks lying on the beach soaking in the sun doesn't hurt either.

"Sounds good," he agrees. "And then I'll be amped-up and ready to come back and take back what's mine."

"Yeah, let him get comfortable, off his guard. Let him think he got away with it. He won't know what hit him," he tells him, feeling that edge of anger again.

And then Dean's jaw sets, his eyes blazing with a sudden fierce conviction that Seth knows too well, and it's a welcome sight now. "He's got no idea what's coming to him. He's gonna regret it for the rest of his life."

"Yeah. They don't know who they're messing with. You'll show them who you are. Who _we_ are. Don't ever let them forget," he tells him, like a mantra, like the words tattooed on the inside of his ribcage, the reason they step into the ring every night, whether they're together or apart, what will always bind them together, what they fight for, the one thing they'll always believe. As long as Dean keeps Seth inside of him like Seth carries Dean, wherever they go, no violent wind or sudden blade or slow frost will ever be strong enough to stop them growing higher and higher towards the sun.


End file.
